unblocked
by john6lisa
Summary: A/N AU B&W HG and Myka meet up twice, once in college and then again ten years later. I have the worst case of writers block, so I am hoping this little story will help me through it so I can update my other two stories. Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy.


**A/N AU B&W HG and Myka meet up twice, once in college and then again ten years later. I have the worst case of writer's block, so I am hoping this little story will help me through it so I can update my other two stories.**

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy.

* * *

><p>Myka hated this part of college, the drunken Frat parties after finals, but Sam had all but pleaded with her to show up after she was done.<p>

"_Please, Bunny. Its just not the same without you on my side. I promise I won't let any of the guys tease you about being the unofficial football team tutor, okay?" _

Myka wiped her cheek against her shoulder; the memory of Sam kissing her cheek was still fresh. She sighed as she made her way up the steps of the frat house, jumping as an empty keg went crashing through the second floor window, crashing a few feet away from her.

"Neanderthals," she whispered her turning toward the hedges at what sounded like a faint snicker. She squinted her eyes, for a moment, thinking she saw the moonlight bouncing off a curtain of long black hair.

"Hey, Mykes! come in, the party is just kicking," Myka rolled her eyes at the man-child and best friend who hung half on the door, balancing a red solo cup of warm foam in his hands.

"Hey Lattimer, any sign of Sam?" Myka asked as she pushed her way past the drunken quarterback.

Her eyes widen at the sight before her, drunken guys and primed sorority girls partying on so many different levels. _"Why the hell am I even here?_" she mumbled as she fought her way through the crowd.

"Hey there brainact, why don't I get you a drink?" Pete was saying, trying his best to guide Myka away from the so called kitchen.

"I'm fine, I just want to find Sam and …" her voice dropping as she watched the rise of the blonde bimbo's hands around Sam's neck.

"Hey Bunny! This is … um?"

"Mandy," the blonde bimbo giggled against Sam's neck.

"Mandy, this is Bunny, I mean Myka, my girl," Sam swallowed.

"Hey Michael, want to come up and join Sammy and me?"

"The name is Myka, and no, Mandy. I do not wish to join you two," Myka gritted through her teeth, spinning on her heels, pushing past Pete as she beelined for the door.

"Not cool, Sammy man," Pete burped.

Myka was wiping away the tears as she stormed out of the frat house, almost stumbling down the steps when a drunken Sam grabbed her elbow.

"Come on, Bunny, she is nothing, just blowing off some steam,"

"Oh, really, Mandy means nothing? She was more than willing to take us both upstairs! Sounds like she means more than nothing," Myka was steaming as she ranked her arm away from Sam.

"I'm over this. I am over us!" Myka trying her best to sound stern while choking back the sting of hurt.

"Fine, this how you want it? Fine by me. We are done!" Sam shouted.

"Fine by me!" Myka yelled over her shoulder, storming her way down Main Street.

"Hey, hey," Pete was saying as he stumbled after Myka. Pulling her to a stop just outside the door of the local pub. "Sam is an ass," Pete said, his eyes dropping as he pulled Myka to the side of the door.

"Tell me something I don't know," Myka fumed.

"I sleep in Scooby-doo PJ's?"

"What?' Myka choked out as she leaned toward the door of the pub, the overwhelming need to be as far away from everyone she has ever known at college.

"You said to say something you didn't know. Bucks to dollars you didn't know I sleep in Scooby underwear?" Pete grinned.

"Go home, Lattimer," Myka said softly. Punching his shoulder with as much force as a wet noodle against a wall.

"Ouch, such a beast!" Pete grinned, his face then soften as he looked at shimmering, red-rimmed eyes. "You going to be okay?"

Myka nodded quickly, turning to rush in the door.

The pub was dark, the warm woods and Hunter green stools somehow warmed her as she made her way to the end of the bar. Thankful that the last few seats were empty as she sat down, already taking her wallet out to show her ID as the bartender came toward her.

"A little lost? The frat parties and dance clubs are down the street," he was saying, looking down at Myka's ID as he spoke.

"Nope, not lost. Just looking for quite place to unwind," Myka responded. "Double Irish whiskey, neat and a club soda with lime," she said as she pulled a few bills out of her pocket.

"No fruity drink with an umbrella, _sweet heart?"_

"Positive,_ stud muffin_," Myka giving her most saccharine smile as she stuffed her ID back in her small wallet, pushing it down into the back of her jeans pocket.

The vile sight of that blonde bimbo sucking on Sam's neck filled her head, shooting the double shot back, Myka grabbed for the club soda just as _'Stud muffin_' set the glass down in front of her. Coughing, she set the rock glass down, holding two fingers up.

"Easy there, slugger," he grinned as he poured more into the rock glass. "You driving?"

"Not that it is any of your business, but no. I walked here," Myka mumbled. The glass in front of her lips, slowly sipping it this time. Her hand jumping to the back of her neck, trying to smooth down the hairs that suddenly were standing on end. _"What the hell now?_" she mumbled, not feeling this on edge since she was senior in high school, having to give a speech to the board of Harvard as to why she deserved to be accepted with so little outside extracurricular activities.

Myka took a second small gulp, then noticing the warm rhythm of an old tune playing on the juke box. Her finger tracing up the side of her club soda, watching as the condensation dripped around the pad of her finger.

"Bob Seeger?" Myka asked, more to herself than anyone.

"Night Moves,"

The sound of the accent caused Myka to turn her head.

"How the hell would a young Brit know that?" the bartender's voice causing Myka's head to snap back toward him.

"Older brother, you know that Dan," A statement made as a matter of fact instead of a condescending tone.

Myka finished her drink, setting it down as she turned to the warmth she felt next to her. Her breath hinched as the dim light shone on black locks.

"Men ...," Myka chanced.

"Neanderthals," the soft, Essex voice responded.

"May I?" Myka motioned to their empty glasses, pulling her wallet out from her back pocket.

"No, thank you." the voice was curt but the hand on Myka's wrist was soft.

" But I have an unopened bottle of black label sitting in my cupboard,"

Myka could not settle her tab fast enough, the smell of sandalwood was causing her head to swim. The warm press of firm fingers at the small of her back was not helping. Myka watched, as if in a trance as the dark haired beauty slid a few bills to the bartender, all the while her hand guiding Myka toward the door.

"Just a few paces down the way," was whispered in her ear. Myka tried to look, her eyes straining to the side as a firm hand guided them both.

"You heard me say …" the sudden burn of hot, moist lips against her neck caused her head to spin, that and the warm burn of the Irish whiskey coursing through her veins. Myka just barely heard the click of a lock, her body then pressed against a firm wall.

"You … you were there at the frat …," her words being cut off by the urgent tongue sliding against her bottom lip. The firm press of a thigh between her caused her head to thump back against the wall.

Myka's eyes rolled back behind her closed lids, her lips trapping the firm tongue between them. When a firm hand pressed against her chest, breaking their kiss, a warm forehead pressed against hers.

"There was some promise of a bottle?" Myka barely whispered. She felt the slight nodding of a yes, then trying to hold back a whimper from the loss of warmth as the woman backed away.

"Make yourself at home," the soft accent said, fading as it drifted to the kitchen.

Myka felt her way to the sofa in the middle of the room, wrapping her arms around herself as she started to over think. Just as she was about to bolt up, the most beautiful set of warm brown eyes met hers. A glass in each hand as the woman settled on her lap.

"Going somewhere?" was whispered against her ear.

Myka swallowed hard, reaching for the glass, "I've never …" she gulped down the drink.

"Been with a woman?" the voice hot and moist against the shell of her ear.

"Been with anyone, beside him," Myka gulped, then a sudden wave of bravado overcoming her as she slid her hands under the hem of the soft, silken shirt.

The intoxicating rhythm of her hips rubbing on top of her lap embolden Myka. She refused to let the mild frustration of trying to unbutton her shirt deter her. With a quick tug, both hands ripped the blue silk apart, her moan escaping her lips as the perfect mound of breasts sat before her lips.

A perfect curtain of black silk hair enveloped them, the woman moaning her approval as Myka sucked and tugged with teeth upon harden nipples.

Myka had not noticed hurried fingers digging and tugging at the button and zipper of her jeans, the hypnotic breaths of lust were deafening in her ear as her hands slid between tight blue jeans.

"More," was the mantra whispered in her ear. Myka groaned as her shirt was ripped from her body, harsh lips, nips and teeth tugging at her harden nipples. The dance for dominance was a give and take, both women moaning as each released a bit of control.

"Enough of this," the English woman growled, her fingers gripping at curls as she leaned back. "Take me, darling" she moaned as she pulled them both back onto the floor, Myka never letting a nipple escape her lips as she held the woman tight, gently setting them down on the floor.

Pants and underthings were ripped apart, Myka moaning as her fingers discovered swollen, wet lips before her. Her back arching as nails scraped up her back, their rhythm matched a frantic pace.

"Your name," Myka panted out as her center rubbed against a firm thigh.

"Not yet, not till you cum for me," soft hands held a firm grip on either side of her cheeks, Myka moaning as she felt the brits walls gripping, pulling her deeper.

Her eyes were a clear green as golden mahogany held her's firm. "Only for you," the brit moaned out, followed by a choked sob, her body shaking as Myka's eyes rolled back, the wave of ecstasy overwhelming.

"For you," Myka choked out.

…

"Agent Bering?" Dickinson asked.

"Yes sir?" Myka asked absently mindedly.

"Meeting in five?"

"Yes sir," Myka shutting down her PC, placing her files in neat piles as she stood up.

"I am counting on you. Have the files ready?"

"Yes sir, inter intel is a go." Myka giving a tight smile as they entered the elevator.

"The director is counting on this BS co-op between agencies to go smoothly. I know this is a dog and pony show for the higher ups. But I am depending on you to handle this." Myka looked sideways at her boss as they rode in silence to the upper floor.

It was a typical conference room, coffee, water and a few bits to snack on. Myka headed to the end of the table, Dickeson grabbing her elbow to guide her next to him. "The head of the CIA and SS are coming in," he whispered.

Myka smiled to the assistant as she headed the programs for them to set out at each chair. "Each one?" Leena asked.

Myka nodded as she watched each head and director made their way into the room. Her head was down cast as the brit asked her boss where to sit. "Right next to me, Agent Wells,"

Myka's eyes shot up at the sound of that long ago voice.

Green met brown.

"Director Dickeson, I would like to introduce my right hand and head agent for this task. Agent Wells,"

Myka gulped, praying, pleading that Dickeson would not…

"This is agent Myka Bering, she will be the head agent in charge of this all," He smiled, pushing Myka forward toward the older man.

"Myka," she whispered, a smile curling her lips.

"Well, seems you two know each other," Dickeson chuckled, slapping Myka's back. "Guess we should let our underlings sort everything out," he said, leading the other director out of the room.

"Yes. let's," Myka mumbled under her breath. Watching as the other agent, correction, agent Wells, shifted from one foot to the other.

"You never gave me the chance to make you eggs in the morning," she chuckled.

"I never asked for that. I thought I was just a fuck and rushed out after we were done," Myka mumbled, her eyes downcast as she organized the folders, her eyes shooting daggers at Leena as she peaked her head into the room.

Helena moved to door, giving Leena a weak smile as she pushed her out, locking the door behind her. Myka raised an eyebrow at the click.

"You know we are at the FBI office, out of curiosity to our departments. Right?" Myka still looking down at the files.

"How long has it been? Ten years?" Helena quipped.

"Nine years, 286 days and twenty two hours, but who is counting?" Myka's right shoulder rising up, her eyes still downcast.

"Apparently someone is. A lit candle in the window? As I remember, you were the aggressor, never been with a woman, my arse," Helena smirked.

Myka's knuckles had turned white; her willpower was all but a felting memoir with that last remark.

Without a word spoken, she marched to the door, double checking that it was locked. Her face was stern as she marched to the woman.

"Ten years, no name, no anything! Then you come waltzing into this office. Do you have any idea what those few hours meant to me? Do you!' Myka's voice rising as her hands lowered down her hips.

"HG or Helena?" her voice rough as she bit and held sway over the brit's neck.

"For you, just Helena," she moaned, making every attempt to press her thigh between her long repressed crush. A night had not passed without a fleeting thought to the curly head woman she so longed to meet again.

As Myka's head thumped against the wall of the room, a sudden flood of memories came rushing back.

"Damn it," Myka mumbled, pushing the brit away.

"I was hoping for a better …" Myka grabbed the back of her neck, a searing kiss shutting the woman up.

"Look, phone call, us, please?" Myka's eyes pleading as she pressed the phone to her ear.

Helena wiped her lips, stepping back as Myka paced the room.

"Okay, we have two days before we have to report back here. Your report with M-6 and me with the SS. Can we please work together without any issues?" Myka's eyes pleading.

Helena swallowed, nodding her head as she sat in the nearest chair, her eyes darting to the files at hand. She ignored the conversation as she looked over the files, her thighs rubbing involuntary at the thought of working with Myka ...Myka, what a beautiful name.

"I still have that bottle of black label," her eyes still locked on the file in front of her, Myka then pausing.

"Yes sir, we will have it ready by Friday. Yes sir, thank you sir. You too sir, have a good night,"

A snort filled the room, followed by a quite _'yes sir_' in a British accent.

"Screw you, Wells,"

"I hope so," a smirk was wiped away with the press of lips.

It was three in the morning, Myka groaned, covering her head with the pillow to block out the harsh light peeking through the door.

"Babe, its three in the morning. Really?" Myka moaned, grabbing the blanket to cover her head.

"So, I am _'Babe_' am I?" Helena smirked as she full pressed her body against Myka's.

"Maybe? I am assuming you are fully trained in some sort of kung Fu thing?" Myka mumbled under the duvet.

"My mother was the ambassador to Shanghai, so needless to say, I fell in love with Mo tie."

"So," Myka mumbled, "You could kill me with just your little pinky?"

"And why would I want to do that when I could just make you my sex slave?" she giggled.

Myka almost choked as she swallowed, "Oh my god did the great Helena G. Wells just giggle?"

Helena repressed her moan as Myka pressed her thigh firmly into her center, her hands gripping her ass as Myka held firm. Green eyes lit to a foam green, her lips sucking, refusing to let go of Helena's pulse as they rocked together.

"Tell me, baby, what does the G stand for?" Myka pressing her thigh a bit harder into Helena's center.

"Make me cum with your mouth and I will tell you," her breaths labored.

Myka moaned out her frustration as she flipped them over. "And if I don't?"

"Your loss," Helena hummed as her fingers tangled in curls, guiding her love down.

Myka slowly awoke to a cold feel next to her, "Babe?" her voice still hoarse from the throes of passion from the night before. Helena may have played coe to the definition of top and bottom, but Myka secretly enjoying being lorded over.

"Scrambled or over easy?" the lithe voice floating into the room.

Myka stretched her long limbs, a small moan escaping her.

"Quiche?"

"Don't push your luck, Bering."


End file.
